On the Fence
“Bear a child? Didn’t you listen to what I just said?”
“I heard what you said. What I mean is…”
Eren was clearly upset, interrupting her, voice rising. “I said I don’t want you having children just so you’ll have someone royal to transfer titan powers to. I will not let that happen to you, do you understand?”
He was doing all he can not to yell at Historia, clenching his fists so he won’t grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. Bending over her, wild emerald eyes burning holes into her sapphire ones, he stared at her with an intensity that made her entire body shiver.
“Why do you choose to throw your life away like that? Why?”
Trembling, she looked up at him, pleadingly. “Eren, stop. Listen to me.”
He straightened up, but she could see in his eyes how angry he was. She laid a gentle hand on his arm.
“If I get pregnant, the military police won’t risk feeding Zeke to me because I might die in the process; we just don’t know what happens when a pregnant woman is titanized. I’m the only royal left aside from him. I’m too precious to them,” she explained.
Eren glowered at her, not saying a word.
He wondered when it started, this need that arose from a place deep inside him: the need to protect Historia. It nearly drove him mad, this overwhelming desire to keep her safe, to keep her undefiled, to never ever let her experience the torture of having to devour a loved one.
The need was as basic as the need to breathe air, as simple as the body craving water.
Was it at the Reiss cave, when she saved his life? He was a sniveling, weeping mess then. It was the lowest point of his life, when he felt like utter shit, a person of so little worth he truly believed he didn’t even deserve to be born. He had wanted her to end the pain, to end the suffering from his self-hate.
But no. Instead, she reached out to him, broke through his wall of self-pity. It would have been so easy for her to just do as her beloved sister Frieda did: titanize and devour the person chained before you. But not Historia. She saw him for who he was then: a precious friend. She’d rather see the entire world burn than bring him harm.
After that, slowly but surely they warmed to each other. He admired her, the way she took up the mantle of royalty. Even if she was but a mere figurehead as queen, she made sure she did all she could within the limits of her influence. Social welfare was at the heart of her mission. When the weight of the world would have felled a lesser person, Historia came through. Shiningly. Beautifully.
Her voice pierced his reverie.
“I’ll be pregnant for the duration that Zeke is on the island. The MPs won’t touch me. It’ll give you time to work out your plans.”
Eren snorted out a laugh, vaguely amused by her newfound amorality. Newfound? Perhaps rediscovered was a better word. After all, she did admit she was humankind’s mortal enemy, years ago in her family’s cave. That shared self-identity somehow brought him comfort.
“You’re amazing. You really are the worst girl in the world!” he remarked drily, but with a trace of fondness in his voice.
“Stop calling me that,” she protested.
“You are, though, and I admire you for it,” he said. Was that a twinkle in his eye?
He continued to gaze at her. Historia, so small and dainty, so doll-like and pretty. But she was the poster child for when people said that looks could be deceiving. She might appear tiny and delicate, but beneath those golden locks and eyes so blue and large and deep one could easily drown in them, there was a backbone. Nerves of steel. An iron will.
What an incredible woman, Eren found himself thinking.
When did it start, the feeling that he could tell her what was on his mind? Was it all the handholding they did after the coronation, when Eren tried once again to dig out the memories he’d inherited from the past shifters? Whenever it was, he found out how easy and pleasant it was to be with her. They could cry, laugh, joke, make fun of each other, all under the umbrella of genuine fondness and a shared fate.
Their relationship progressed to a place where he could easily tell her everything, including his plan of destroying the world. Something kept him from telling his other friends from the 104th. But not Historia. She had always been the exception.
Telling Floch was done out of both guilt and necessity. Once, at the royal palace when the Scouts received commendation from the Queen, his comrade accused him of putting his emotions–his feelings of affection for Armin–over the logical, rational choice: Commander Erwin Smith. When they fought over whose life was worth saving, the words from Floch’s mouth was like a dagger through his heart. “We need the devil to save us,” he had said. When Eren decided to become that devil, the person to tell was Floch. He was the type of man who could easily stomach the idea of the devil saving his soul.
With Historia, it was different. It was done out of pure love. Ah, yes, he did love her.
She was special, and not just because she was royalty. Historia had seen the worst he could possibly get and yet she embraced him. But not blindly. She embraced him, and there was something in the warmth and wisdom of the love she had for him that made him want to become a better man. Made him want to do better, try harder, go to where no Attack Titan had ever gone before.
There was something about her that made him want to do the impossible. There was something about her that made him trust her, when he found it fatal to trust others.
Ah, Historia. If only you knew.
It was still early afternoon at the barn. The sun beat down on them, but it was not unkind. There was a slight breeze, enveloping them with the scent of fresh hay and a hint of cow manure. It was an earthy smell, mixed with the odour of newly turned soil.
“I’ve always wanted a baby,” Historia revealed. “I thought I didn’t, given my pathetic childhood. I thought I wouldn’t know how to raise a child. But then, I realised I didn’t have to become like my mother. I realised I could choose to be more like Frieda.”
She glanced up at Eren. How he had changed. There was a brooding air to him these days. He was now six feet tall, his dark hair had grown longer, his eyes more opaque with a menacing look to them. She could see the flex of muscles from underneath his shirt. He was a grown man, a man with a mission, and he didn’t merely visit to chat over a cup of tea.
Wasn’t it yesterday when he was just a boy, this crybaby chained to a rock in a cave, begging her to end his life? What happened between then and now?
Many things happened. Too many things, both good and bad. But one thing Historia knew for sure: the more she got to know Eren, the more she grew to love him. He would look at her, full of admiration, and tell her straight how much he liked what she’d been doing. His words encouraged her, gave her strength.
Oh, Eren, if only you knew.
“You’ll make a great mum,” Eren declared. And then something struck him, like a punch to the solar plexus. “Hang on…who’s gonna be the father?”
She noticed that hint of anger back in his voice. Tossing her head, she replied breezily, “I could but snap my fingers and men will come running to volunteer their services.”
“What the fuck, Historia?” The coldness in her tone was like a bucket of icy water over his head.
“What do you want me to say, Eren? Beg the man I truly want to come take me? Because he’s such a clueless boy I need to say the words out loud? I have my pride,” she retorted. This time it was her turn to be angry.
They glared at each other, wordlessly.
“I need to go, I’ve got work to do. You are dismissed,” she said, turning on her heels.
Strong hands wrapped around her waist, picking her up easily. She was so tiny. He sat her on the barn fence, wedging his body between her knees.
Holding on to his shoulders for balance, Historia gazed at his face. They were at eye level now. Intense emerald eyes drilled into hers.
“So you’re just gonna go and get some stranger to screw you, is that it?” he spat out the words.
“What choice do you I have? What is it to you anyway?” she snapped.
Their faces were inches apart, breaths mingling.
“What…is…it…to…me…anyway?” he repeated slowly, voice shaking with disbelief.
“In the end, I’m just a breeding cow, aren’t I? An Eldian royal by definition is merely a vessel for the Nine Titans. What makes me any different? Nothing. After all’s been said and done, the facts remain the same. I’m basically a baby making machine. Whether I want the baby or not doesn’t even matter. All I need is a…” she began, but her angry tirade was cut off by Eren’s lips closing over hers.
Long fingers tangled in the blonde locks at her nape, holding her prisoner against his hot, searching mouth.
It was a brutal, punishing kiss that left her breathless. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Eren undid the shawl around her shoulders, one arm wrapping over her back, pressing her body to his. His flesh burned through the fabric of her dress. Historia felt her nipples tighten as they rubbed against the solid muscle of his chest.
The kiss went on. A cold breeze blew, but the heat from Eren’s body made up for the lost shawl. Historia leaned into him and kissed him back hungrily, taking his tongue between her lips. Clinging to him, she opened her mouth willingly, welcoming his probing tongue. For a while nothing could be heard but Historia’s soft moaning as their tongues dueled in that marvelous dance of desire.
“Historia, you know what I feel about you,” he rasped, cupping her face in his hands.
“You know what I want, Eren,” she replied simply, eyes never leaving his.
“I want it, too, but let’s get real here. I’ll be dead in a few years, if I get to live that long. What kind of a father is that, abandoning his wife and child? You’ll have to raise the kid alone,” he said as he ran a finger over her kiss-bruised lips.
“It would be an honor for me to raise your child, Eren. Our child.”
Eren let out an anguished sigh. Resting his forehead against hers, he said, “But it would just be completely irresponsible of me…You’ll need someone who’ll be there for you through the years, someone your children can rely on, someone who’ll look after them, protect them, raise them to adulthood…”
“I can do all of that on my own,” she replied. This time it was her turn to cup his face in her hands. “Eren, I don’t want anyone but you.”
He shook his head. “But I’m hurting you by wanting you back. Maybe not now, but when I’m gone…you’ll look at our child and it will hurt…”
“How could it hurt,” she said softly, “when I have a mini-Eren in my arms who’ll remind me everyday of all the love you had to give, of all the sacrifices you made, of the great kindness you’ve shown me and the people you care for? Where is the hurt in that, Eren? For me, it would be the greatest of joy…”
Greatly moved by this tender entreaty, tears welled in Eren’s eyes. Typical of her to break down his composure. His hands wrap tightly around her waist.
“Historia,” he groaned, “what am I too you?”
She looked straight into his eyes, heart moving without hindrance, meeting his poignant look with the ease of a woman sure of her love. “You are my beloved, Eren. My heart. You are my shining light. You are the rock I cling to when everything around me is falling apart.”
Embracing her, he said in turn, “And you are the source of my strength, Historia. You are my inspiration. I think of you and I feel this courage and power flowing through my veins.”
Gently, tenderly, she asked him, “Then what are we waiting for?”
Eren tipped her chin with his finger, looked deep into her eyes. “You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Historia’s breath caught as his lips brushed hers. With one arm tight around her waist, she felt him drawing her body to his. Her breasts mashed against his chest, she moaned into his mouth.
The warmth of her lips invited him in, and once again he teased her mouth open, dipping his tongue in, tasting her. Eren glided his palm between the valley of her breasts, large hand cupping a shapely mound. His thumb caressed a hardening tip through the fabric of her dress. One nipple, and then the other. The turgid peaks strained through her dress.
Soon the kiss become less and less gentle. Mouth crushing hers, Eren lifted her bottom with his hands, pressing her intimately against him.
He broke the kiss to say, “Wrap your legs around me.”
She did, and immediately became aware of the hard rod straining against his breeches. A shiver ran down her spine and she wriggled, wanting to feel more of him. Her knickers and petticoats got in the way. With a frustrated moan she started to buck her hips softly, the heel of her boot digging into the small of his back.
He was so big and so hard, and an indescribable need grew inside her. The feel of him through her knickers caused a warm wetness to seep from within. As they kissed, she lifted herself a little, bracing her hands on his shoulders, trying to rub herself up and down against that stiff ridge of flesh.
“Keep still, Your Highness. Don’t tease me like that, else I’ll take you right here and now.”
“I want you, Eren Jaeger,” she breathed wantonly, between kisses. “I need you. Your Queen needs you.”
“Shall I bend you over and fuck you raw then? Provide free entertainment for your farmhands?” The tone was amused, teasing.
She blushed, shaking her head.
Chuckling, holding her tight against him and moulding her chest to his, Eren plucked her off the fence. With her legs wrapped snugly around his waist, he carried his queen into the cabin.
Thank you so much for reading! Please consider sharing a thought or two in the comment section below. Your comments give me life and are a real source of encouragement. xoxo, hana
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